Every night I sit in front of my trusty MacTop, (for you PC owners that's a superior piece of electronic equipment that cannot even be compared to an average laptop, hence the distinction), and every night I stare at the screen; willing the words to come. They don't.
This weekend I spent some time with my "sounding board", AKA the best friend, and we hammered out some key details and that seemed to help get my head in the right space. I've written a little, but not nearly enough to consider myself on track. If I ever want to reach this goal of 50K words by Nov 30 I'd best get my patootie in gear!
As a "thank ya kindly" for all the support and "YOU CAN DO IT" messages I'll share a little tidbit of what I'm working on now. WARNING: it is VERY rough and unedited, not at all a finished product. Think of it as a glimpse into my creative genius, if you will. (You can laugh at that last bit, 'cause I sure as hell am.)
The sky was grey with thick clouds that blocked the brilliant sunlight Florida was typically known for. Wind blustered in from all directions, scattering leaves and kicking up pine needles, sending them flying into the chain-link fence that denoted this place as set apart from the outside world. Spanish moss swung from the branches of the old oak trees like macabre garland reaching down to brush the tops of the headstones that dotted the small cemetery plot. Everything seemed to be in a perpetual state of mourning here, clothed in varying shades of grey or brown and peppered with the occasional shroud of black. Even the lone figure that stood hunched over a cluster of stones blended in with the gloomy scene. From the dark shoes and the long black trench coat pulled tight against the weather to the grey cap, every inch of the visitor looked as if it belonged amongst the dolor. One might wonder if the sun ever touched this part of the earth or if it was in a perpetual state of shade and shadows.
A light rain began to fall, spattering and coating everything. With it the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, and the wind renewed its efforts to blow down anything in its path. As if to show its gusto, a burst of cold rushed in and carried off the cap of the stranger, revealing a shock of red locks that fell down her back and began to whip around. Yet, the visitor remained planted in the same place she’d taken since arriving, seemingly unaware of the worsening weather or the loss of her hat. It was the rusty hinges of the gate groaning in protest against the wind that drew the woman out of her trance. Still unaffected by either the cold or the rain, she made no move to leave, but took in her surroundings. She startled when she realized she wasn’t as alone as she had thought she was. Behind her stood a man. He’d been so quiet and still she wondered if maybe he wasn’t a figment of her imagination or an apparition. The later would have been more appropriate considering her surroundings, but before she could get really good and freaked out, the being cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he apologized and she relaxed a bit. He couldn’t be a ghost, only corporeal beings apologized. At least that’s what she assumed.
A light rain began to fall, spattering and coating everything. With it the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, and the wind renewed its efforts to blow down anything in its path. As if to show its gusto, a burst of cold rushed in and carried off the cap of the stranger, revealing a shock of red locks that fell down her back and began to whip around. Yet, the visitor remained planted in the same place she’d taken since arriving, seemingly unaware of the worsening weather or the loss of her hat. It was the rusty hinges of the gate groaning in protest against the wind that drew the woman out of her trance. Still unaffected by either the cold or the rain, she made no move to leave, but took in her surroundings. She startled when she realized she wasn’t as alone as she had thought she was. Behind her stood a man. He’d been so quiet and still she wondered if maybe he wasn’t a figment of her imagination or an apparition. The later would have been more appropriate considering her surroundings, but before she could get really good and freaked out, the being cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he apologized and she relaxed a bit. He couldn’t be a ghost, only corporeal beings apologized. At least that’s what she assumed.
That's a bit of what I've got going on so far. I'll continue to update you on my progress (or not, depending on how the cookie crumbles) and feed you little bites of the next great American Novel. (Yeah, I'm laughing again. Fee free to join in.)
Until next time,
Shannon
1 comments:
I like it! I can picture the scene in my mind, & there's lots of intrigue.
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